What If She Had Left the Dawnguard?
by Saiyan967
Summary: Just an idea I had while playing the new expansion. What if Serana had fallen for the Dragonborn and hadn't stayed with the Dawnguard? Anyhow, this is my first time writing a story like this so feedback would be great!
1. Chapter 1

**What If She Had Left?**

**Chapter 1**

20 years had passed since the time of the Dragon's return. The Dovahkiin had slain Alduin, and had years later defeated the vampire lord Harkon, with the help of his daughter Serana and the Dawnguard. For the rest of his life, the Dragonborn protected Skyrim, though his enemies thought him to be heavily involved with the Thieves Guild and the Dark Brotherhood. Regardless, Skyrim lived in relative peace under the protection of the Dovahkiin and the Dawnguard.

Serana, one of the few remaining vampires, ironically decided to stay with the Dawnguard for a time, training them to defend themselves against her kind. Though, once the first generation of the revived Dawnguard had passed on, the new recruits turned out to be much more radical in beliefs and chased Serana from their stronghold, banishing her from the only home she had. She was not seen again for many, many years.

* * *

Blood. All she sensed was blood. It filled all of her senses completely. She saw it. She smelled it. She tasted it. The walls of Castle Volkihar were painted red with mingling splashes of blood. The red of humans, the black of vampires.

The attack was going as planned, though with more casualties than they had predicted. The Dragonborn had made his way off to confront her father. From her father's chamber, she heard the unmistakable howl of a werewolf, meaning that the Dragonborn had transformed into his much more powerful form for the final battle. She ran for the door to assist him, but she was too late. The fight was already over.

She opened the door slowly, afraid to see the outcome. She peered around the corner to see her father, standing over the body of a man with his chest ripped open, and holding his heart. His crimson eyes rose to meet hers, both sets filled with immense rage. His from betrayal, hers from love. Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he brought the heart to his lips and bit it, as though it were a ripe apple. More blood. Spraying on the walls, with a few small drops hitting her face. This felt different though. The blood wasn't warm, but as cold as ice. Then more drops from the heart. Defying gravity, they flew towards her face and made their painfully frigid impacts on her pale skin. Confusion and terror tore at her insides.

"This isn't right," she thought. "This isn't right at all!"


	2. Chapter 2

**What If She Had Left?**

**Chapter 2**

Serana woke with a start, the cold rain of Skyrim fell harshly on her face. The tree she had been sleeping under had provided less cover than she thought it would. As she looked around, she saw a cabin on the side of the mountain opposite her and decided to head there for shelter.

Grabbing her pack, she thought to herself, "_How long has it been since that day? A hundred years? A hundred and twenty, perhaps?_"

Time has no meaning for vampires after their first three centuries. And in her first two hundred years of life, she had never felt anything towards a human but hunger.

Then He had saved her from that godforsaken tomb that her mother had sealed her in. He protected her. He obtained Auriel's Bow and He had used it to defeat her father. He had done more for her in little more than a month than either of her parents had in centuries. She had never felt love before, until she met the Dragonborn. But, as with everything for a vampire, she had lost him.

Time was a relentless foe, never stopping for anyone, except her and her kind. The curse of having to watch the only person you ever loved brave countless dangers, win against impossible odds, just to watch him die slowly. She could have saved him. He could have accepted her offer and become a vampire like her, but he chose not to. He was a Companion at heart, as he was their Harbinger after Kodlak Whitemane had been murdered by the Silver Hand.

This was also a blessing in a way. The abilities of a werewolf granted him incredible strength and prolonged life, though not eternal. He died at the age of one hundred and forty-seven, to the distress of the entire region of Skyrim. Once he died, Serana felt lost and alone. She returned to the Dawnguard, only to find herself chased away. In the chaos that enveloped the major cities of Skyrim after the death of the Dovahkiin, she found it easy to slip into a feeding frenzy, driven by sadness.

After one such feeding, Serana found she had consumed nearly a quarter of the labor force of Markarth! Now she was constantly chased by assassins that were hired by the livid Silver-Blood family. The mere thugs they had sent at first had fallen easily to her powers as a vampire. But recently, they had gone to a whole new extreme. Currently, she was being chased by an assassin of the Dark Brotherhood, a Khajiit female known as Zanabi, which had her on the run in the mountains near Whiterun.

"Almost there," whispered Serana to herself.

A twig snapped behind her. Serana ran hard and hit herself behind a tree. She straightened and strained her ears for any noises hidden in the rain. The rain lulled to a drizzle. Suddenly, she heard the near-silent _twang _of a bowstring releasing an arrow. As she rolled to the side, an ebony arrow embedded itself in the tree where her heart was a moment before.

"_This cat means business_," she thought as another arrow whizzed past her shoulder, "_Luckily, so do I."_

Serana was a skilled necromancer, though over centuries spend training, had become a master of Destruction magic as well. She waited for another arrow to fly towards her, barely dodged it, and shot a fireball in the direction it came from. The blazing orb flew into the trees and illuminated a shadowy figure that leaped out of its path. The ball's explosion however, was far weaker than normal.

"_It's the rain_!" realized Serana, "How could I have been so naïve!?" she muttered to herself.

As Serana quickly dispelled the fire in her hands, Zanabi crouched in a tree and used the light created by her spells to fire a very special arrow. No sooner had Serana began charging a lightning spell in both hands, that she was struck in the shoulder by a Daedric arrow. The arrow made a sickening _thock, _mixed with Serana's scream,as it glided through her body and exited out her back. Normally, blood would have flowed freely from such a wound, but for some reason this one didn't.

"I..I can't move! I can't cast any spells!" said Serana in a panic.

Her legs quickly gave out from under her and she collapsed to the soggy ground. Zanabi gracefully leaped down from her perch in the tree and casually strolled over to her prey, lying helpless on the ground.

"Entertaining a target you make, this game of cat and mouse grows tiresome," purred Zanabi.

"Go to hell," growled Serana through gritted teeth.

"Ohh, does Zanabi's poison make you angry? It should. Very expensive poison that not only drains stamina and magicka, but paralyzes target too so that Zanabi can play with her kill," the evil cat snarled in her ear.

As she slowly pulled out a blade to cut out her target's heart, Zanabi's ears perked up as if they had heard something. There seemed to be a soft _thump_ in the air, and the clouds disappeared entirely. A soft breeze rippled across the grass that smelled of brimstone. Zanabi looked around them and saw that they were in a clearing on the side of the mountain. Suddenly, a shadow flew over her. Startled, she looked up but saw nothing. She then heard a slight chuckle as turned to see Serana smiling and laughing softly.

"What do you find so funny?" inquired the Khajiit menacingly, as she reached down and held the blade to Serana's throat.

Serana never had a chance, or the need, to answer her captor. The ground shook as the massive form of a dragon dropped to the ground behind Zanabi. The cat swirled around just in time to see the dragon's tail flying towards her at an incredible speed. The blow caught her in the chest and launched her off of Serana, who was slowly beginning to regain control of her body.

The nimble assassin quickly scrambled to her feet, and once again turned to face this new opponent.

"I am Dovah!" roared the dragon, "I am bound by an oath to Dovahkiin to protect this woman," it motioned with a massive wing toward Serana who had clumsily gotten to her feet, and stood propped against a tree.

"I don't care who, or what, you are!" snarled Zanabi. "Zanabi will slay the pesky dragon, and the target too!"

As her nimble paw reached for another poisoned arrow, the Khajiit heard the last three words that would ever reach her ears.

"YOL..TOOR..SHUL!" shouted the dragon.

A powerful wall of fire quickly consumed Zanabi and launched her, screaming, off the mountainside. The fight over, the dragon slowly turned back to face Serana.

"What..is your..name?" she asked, teetering on the edge of consciousness.

"Rest now, young one. I shall see that you are cared for," said her rescuer.

The last thing Serana heard as she lost consciousness,

"Your love called me Parthurnax."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Footsteps outside. Serana started awake, suddenly realizing she was in a bed. Looking around, she didn't recognize the room she was in. Voices began to float in along with the scraping of metal on plates. An inn? She wouldn't feel safe until she knew.

Hiding her dagger in her sleeve, Serana opened the door and stepped out into the middle of an inn. The happy patrons paid her no mind as they ate, drank, and sang their troubles away with one another.

Feeling the need for some fresh air, Serana sheathed her knife and stepped outside into the cool night air. She looked down the hill in front of the inn and slowly recognized the streets of Whiterun. Turning around, she found that her room was in the Bannered Mare.

Her memories eluded her. She wandered aimlessly around the candle-lit city, trying to remember anything from the past few days. The Khajiit, Zanabi. Zanabi's poisoned arrow that pierced through Serana's body. The dragon...Parthurnax. Her rescuer. After that, she remembered nothing before waking up in the inn.

She felt where the arrow had pierced her shoulder, expecting to find the hole, only to find that it had been completely healed! Only a master of Restoration magic could have done that so quickly and the only ones that Serana knew of were in the Temple of Kynareth. How could anyone have convinced a priest to heal a vampire?!

"_How much influence could that have taken_?" Serana wondered in awe.

Then, a flash! A snowy mountain, the wind racing around her, and old men in grey robes. The Greybeards! Parthurnax must have flown her to the Throat of the World after he saved her. The revered old men would definitely have the influence in the city to arrange for her healing. Perhaps when she had her thoughts together, she would traverse the Thousand Steps and go speak with them.

Again, the sounds of revelry reached Serana's ears. Expecting to see the inn, Serana was surprised to find herself outside Jorrvaskr, home of the Companions. She smiled as memories of His stories of this place floated around in her head. She wondered if anyone from His time there was even still alive..Exhaling to calm herself, Serana walked up to the mead hall and pushed open the doors.


	4. Chapter 4

**What If She Had Left?**

**Chapter 4**

Silence fell in the hall of Jorrvaskr. As Serana's gaze fell across the people inside the hall, she felt her heart sink in her chest because she didn't recognize anyone anymore. Roughly ten Companions were scattered around the interior of the great hall, and all of them were glaring at the stranger that entered their home. The door on the opposite side of the hall opened and in walked the new leader of the Companions, Skjorn. Finally, a familiar face, thought Serana as she watched his face show subtle signs of attempting to figure out why he felt he knew this stranger.

While Serana was focused on Skjorn, she heard the sound of a sword exiting its sheath, followed by the rapid footfalls and battle cry of an attacker. She turned to her left to see a young Nord charging at her, his shining, silver sword held high.

A decision had to be made. Fight her assaulter and risk losing Skjorn as an ally, or defend herself and risk serious injury from such a blade. No time to decide. As Serana reached for her dagger, a huge, hairy form crashed through the door behind her and barreled into her attacker.

Screaming from a woman in the corner. The men tensed as their hands went to their weapons, ready to confront the creature. Its clawed hand reached out and caught the falling arm of the now terrified Nord. A werewolf was holding the boy's arm aloft and wrenched it, throwing the sword to the ground. The beast turned its head and latched eyes with the stunned vampire standing in the doorway. Those eyes...Serana knew those eyes. It was Aela. The Huntress' mouth spread into a twisted, wolfish grin, showing she recognized her old friend. As her head turned her back to the young man now cowering in her grasp, the grin disappeared and the happiness in her eyes was replaced with rage that anyone would try to hurt her friend. Her jaws opened wide enough to consume his head, saliva dripping from her yellowed fangs.

Aela then produced the most feral roar any of them had heard. The sound was terrifying to everyone in the hall. The ferocity of an invincible creature mixed with the passion of a livid woman. Skjorn took a step back at his mother's ferocity. The hairs on Serana's neck bristled in reaction to the horrifying noise, even though it was meant to defend her. The Nord, his people's hardy and warlike nature forgotten, tore his arm from Aela's grasp and fled down to the barracks beneath Jorrvaskr.

Once again, silence descended on the hall. Skjorn's aura of control had returned and Serana relaxed her tense muscles and sheathed her dagger. The rest of the Companions, however, still stood with their weapons drawn, eyes trained on the monster they had only heard of in children's stories.

Skjorn approached his mother,

"Was that really necessary?" he asked.

The Huntress merely eyed him in response and growled deep in her throat. The Companions, seeing their leader so comfortable around the beast, slowly lowered their weapons, but did not yet sheath them.

"I suppose we have to tell them about the beast blood now," Skjorn said wearily.

Aela rumbled apologetically, knowing the hard spot she had put her son in.

"What's done is done I suppose," Skjorn accepted, "I'll inform them all once they've calmed down. Perhaps you should change back soon?"

Obligingly, the Huntress loped to the stairs and down into the barracks, claws scraping on the wood floor. The tension in the room changes from fear of the beast to morbid curiosity at what could possibly make a werewolf defend a vampire none of them knew.

Footsteps on the stairs. Aela emerged from the barracks, wearing the armor she had begun wearing since the Dragonborn's time as Harbinger.

"Serana, it's been too long," said the Huntress, embracing her old friend.


End file.
